Let the Fire burn the Ice Let the Ice melt the Fire
by mlm0330
Summary: Sansa gets her first look at Joffrey's true nature in Winterfell. After the deaths of the King and the Hand, Joffrey's anger begins to rule her life. But what if someone offered her an escape? Sansa and Sandor find themselves on a road to self discovery and survival. Can they make it through these troubling years together? Let the flight and fight of their lives begin.
1. Chapter 1

Sansa awoke early that morning. She had barely been able to fall asleep the night before. Today was the day that the royal family would be arriving. She would finally be able to lay her eyes upon the golden-haired prince she had heard so much about.

She called her handmaidens to her room immediately, wanting to take extra time and care in her appearance that day. She desperately wanted to impress the royal family.

After being scrubbed clean in her bath, her maids dressed her in the lovely new gown her mother had given her just for this special occasion. While it was still a Northern style dress, her mother had allowed for a few embellishments to be made. She couldn't help spinning around before her looking glass, her new skirts flaring out around her. She felt beautiful. Her maids brushed her hair out until it shined. They braided a small section near each of her temples, meeting the two braids at the back of her head and fastening them together with an elegant clip her father had given to her on her eighth nameday. She felt that keeping her hair in the Northern style would be the best option. Her maids had told her about the elaborate styles of the South, and had assured her they knew how to do them, but she felt that honoring her home's traditions was better. After all, the court would not have come all the way to the North if they did not want to experience the traditional ways of the Northern people.

She was joined by Arya as she made her way down the stairs of their tower, and they giggled about what to expect to see that day. Arya was excited to see the guards of King's Landing, and was ecstatic to see the infamous Knights of the King's Guard. She was determined to see them in the practice yard, and hopeful that she might even get to join them at some point. Sansa could not care less about them. She was excited to see the queen, who's beauty was known even all the way up here in the North. She had heard that her children had inherited her looks, and could not wait to see the crown prince. She had heard of his golden hair and charming looks, and was excited to finally see him with her own eyes.

As she and Arya walked down to their family's small, private dining hall, she could see that the castle was all in chaos that morning. Everyone was scurrying around with the final preparations for the royal visit.

As they sat down together to break their fast, the rest of the family joined in their excitement about the arrival that day. She and Arya giggled even more as they snuck pieces of bacon and sausage under the table to feed their direwolf pups.

Their Septa looked at them with disapproval, but all of the children did this, and she had long ago given up on trying to put a stop to it.

She grinned as she remembered the day her brothers had brought the pups home to them. It had been perfect. There were two girl direwolf pups for the two Stark daughters and three boy direwolf pups for the three Stark sons. There was even a boy direwolf pup for their half-brother Jon, though it was clear that this pup was the runt of the litter. Jon didn't seem to mind though, and they had laughed over how fitting the arrangement seemed.

They all had to think long and hard about names for the wolves. Eventually, Sansa decided on the name Lady, Arya decided on Nymeria, Robb decided on Grey Wind, and little Rickon decided on Shaggy Dog. Jon decided on Ghost because his wolf didn't seem to make any sounds. Bran had yet to name his wolf. He wanted the name to be perfect, but he just couldn't settle his mind.

After their fast had been broken, the children went out to the yard to await the royal family's arrival. To their lady mother's dismay, they played with each other and their wolves while they were waiting. After all, they were children. It was hard for children to simply sit still and wait. They had just taught their pups to bring a stick back to them after they threw it, and so they were playing that game. They liked to see who could throw the stick the farthest, and who's pup could bring it back the quickest. Catelyn threatened punishment on any child who got themselves dirty, though they didn't seem to listen. In the end, their cheeks were flush and they were all out of breath from running around after each other and their pups, but all of them remained clean.

At last, a rider came to announce the arrival of the King. Everyone took their places in the greeting line.

Sansa couldn't help the huge grin that had settled on her face.

The guards were the first to ride through the gates of Winterfell. The Hound came in right behind them. Out of habit, he scanned his surroundings. After making note of where all the buildings were, he turned his attention to the greeting line.

He briefly scanned the line of guards and staff, deciding that none of them posed as any type of a threat. He did note that the general attitude of the line of Winterfell workers seemed to be much more cheerful than that of the workers in King's Landing. The women were a little plumper, and the men were a little stronger. They clearly looked like they were well taken care of, and that they liked working here. He had heard this about the Starks before.

He then saw the noble family.

He regarded Ned Stark for a moment. He looked every bit of the noble and honorable man his reputation claimed him to be. The Hound had been a squire during Robert's Rebellion, but, working for the Lannisters, he had never really seen much of the Northern men. He remembered seeing Ned from a distance a few times, but the Lannister knight he was working for had not been important enough to be included in the counsels of the rebellion leaders.

The woman standing next to him could only be his wife, the Lady Catelyn. Though she was not known for her beauty, she was known for her strength and grace. She had a more subtle type of beauty to her. She had the red hair and blue eyes of the Tullys, and the kind of dignity that could only be obtained through growing up in a noble family, learning about her duty from an early age. If he remembered correctly, her family's words were _Family, Duty, Honor_, and she was every bit of that.

His eyes then fell upon the three Stark boys. _'Bloody hells,'_ he thought, _'the rumors are true. They all have damned direwolves!'_ Looking at them, however, he saw that they were still just pups. He could easily take care of one if it were to attack. Though the boys all had the Tully look about them, their eyes, faces, and stature was clearly that of the North. Their blue eyes had the same severity and honor in them that their father possessed. The eldest held a stern expression, the expression of the heir of the North. The other two sons were still quite young; the youngest couldn't have seen more than five or six namedays. They still had the eager expressions of children.

He next saw a scrawny little dark-haired girl. He surmised that she must be the younger of the Stark daughters. He couldn't help the smirk that came unbidden to his face when he noticed that she was so small, her size was almost comparable to the wolf pup. She looked more like Ned Stark than any of the others. She had the dark hair and dark eyes of the North. Her face was fierce, and there was a certain toughness in her demeanor.

His eyes then fell upon the older Stark girl. His breath caught in his throat and he felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. _'Seven hells!'_ Before him stood the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes upon. Her skin was as pale as the moon, her hair as bright as fire, her eyes as blue as the water of Tarth. She looked so small to him; she was so incredibly slim, though she did seem tall for her age. Her fiery hair was flowing gently in the breeze.

She had the Tully look, and was clearly more refined and graceful than her sister. But it was clear that she had a kind of strength that he had never seen in the girls of the South. She _was_ a Stark of Winterfell, after all. And he had heard that she was the only Stark child to be born in winter. He didn't quite know what that meant, but it clearly meant something.

The mere sight of her stirred something deep within him. Something he could not identify. He felt a strange emotion that was completely foreign to him, and yet it had a distant familiarity to it. It was almost similar to the feelings he remembered all the way from his childhood. Feelings he had not felt since he had lost his mother and sister.

His world seemed to stop and come crashing down all in that single moment.

He knew he had to collect himself, though. He needed to get out of the way and keep an eye on the royal family as they entered the yard. He wasn't being paid to gawk at a little noble girl, after all.

It took all of the strength and discipline he had learned throughout his years to pull his gaze away from the lovely Sansa Stark.

Sansa watched as a man with the most horribly scarred face she had ever seen entered the courtyard.

Arya leaned over to her and whispered "That must be the Hound. They call him the 'Lannister Dog,' and he is one of the best fighters in all of Westeros. I've heard the only man who can truly challenge him in combat is his older brother, The Mountain."

"Why do they call him the mountain?" Sansa asked.

"Do you see how large the Hound is? The Mountain is even larger. That's why they call him 'The Mountain that rides.'" Arya answered.

Sansa was shocked. The man riding into the courtyard was easily the largest man she has ever seen. She couldn't believe that he had a brother who was even bigger. He had stopped momentarily and was assessing her family. His eyes turned to her, and she saw more anger in those eyes than she had seen in any other person before. He quickly moved his eyes past her, though, and trotted over to the side.

Nervously, not wanting anyone to hear her, lest someone get offended, Sansa leaned close to Arya and whispered "What happened to his face."

"I don't actually know. I've only heard of the large scar covering half the man's face, not the story behind it."

"Whatever the story is, it must have been awful," Sansa whispered sadly. Her heart reached out to this deformed man in front of her. No one should have to suffer whatever it was that left him with that scar. As she thought about it, she thought she could see a sort of pain and sorrow behind his anger when his eyes had met hers.

Her thoughts soon moved past the Hound as the royal family came into view. She was so excited, she had to force herself not to jump up and down with glee. She needed to act as a proper lady. _'And ladies do _not_ jump up and down with excitement,'_ she thought.

First came King Robert – a fat, red faced man whom she found rather repulsive.

A grossly disfigured man came in next.

"That must be the Imp!" Arya said excitedly.

"Shh! Don't be rude, Arya!" Sansa scolded.

"Oh please, it's not like he can even hear me. Besides, I'm sure he has heard it before. He's known throughout Westeros as the Imp, after all."

"It is still not a very nice thing to say," Sansa said, but let the issue drop.

The man behind him made up for both the Imp's grotesque stature and the king's repulsive looks, though. The truly hansom Jamie Lannister rode in, and Sansa could not help the sigh that flew past her lips. She could almost feel Arya roll her eyes next to her. He was just so beautiful with the golden hair of the Lannisters and the muscular look of a knight.

A huge rolling house was pulled in next. When it stopped, the queen and the three royal children stepped out.

"Oh!" exclaimed Sansa, "She is even more beautiful than they say. She is simply perfect! And just look at those golden-haired children. All of them are _simply perfect_. That one must be my dear Prince Joffrey!"

She knew Arya didn't care about any of it, but she couldn't help gushing about it anyways.

She had heard the staff of Winterfell talk about it; had heard all the rumors. Everyone thought that during the royal family's stay, she would be betrothed to Prince Joffrey. She couldn't even believe it. Being betrothed to Joffrey would mean that she would be queen one day!

She caught Joffrey's eye then, and gave him her biggest, most dazzling smile. He gave a small smile in return, then turned to talk to his mother. Though she was a little disappointed from his lack of returned affection, she figured he must just be tired from the rode. She knew they had been travelling for nearly a month now. Maybe he didn't know about the probable betrothal, either. Surely, once he learned that she would be his queen, he would develop and express his affections more.

Once the whole family was in the yard, Lord Eddard kneeled. Everyone was quick to follow him.

Sansa didn't know how long they remained kneeling, but it felt like forever. She just wanted to be able to look upon her Joffrey again.

King Robert's booming voice broke through the silence, allowing everyone to finally straighten up.

Robert greeted Ned warmly, and then all the proper introductions were made. Again, Sansa tried to give Joffrey her best smile. She prayed that her father would make a betrothal between them.

Her father and the king went off to the crypts so Robert could pay respect to Lyanna – Sansa's late aunt. She knew they were betrothed before Lyanna was stolen by the Mad King.

As Sansa finally got into her warm feather bed that night, she let out a big sigh.

Dinner had _not_ gone the way she wanted.

She knew that Arya was riled up because of the royal visit, but _really_! Did she have to be so obnoxious!

Sansa had been on her best behavior all evening. She wanted desperately to prove to everyone that she was good enough to be betrothed to the prince.

To absolutely no one's surprise, the betrothal between her and Prince Joffrey had been announced before the first course was served. She had been so overjoyed. It was hard to make herself keep her lady-like composure. She kept reminding herself that proper ladies keep themselves calm and collected during times of great excitement.

She was pleased with how things were going by the time the second course was served. She and her siblings were eating with the royal children. They all seemed to get along well.

The two younger children, Myrcella and Tommen, were perfectly delightful people. Her beloved Joffrey was somewhat quiet and reserved, though he was perfectly polite. They were all talking and having a grand time.

Then, stupid Arya had to go and ruin _everything_.

Her rebellious and mischievous sister decided it would be funny to throw the tomato slices from her salad at Sansa.

The tomato slices hit her on the cheek and neck, creating a loud, wet smack. They slid down her skin, and began to stain the top of her dress.

The whole table stared at her in a shocked silence. Sansa herself was shocked. She sat frozen in place, trying to process what had just happened.

After a couple of breaths, Sansa shouted "ARYA!" and this seemed to slap everyone back into reality.

Arya started to crack up, along with her youngest brother Rickon. Her other brothers were trying to stifle their own laughter, but still had pity in their eyes.

It was her beloved Joffrey who came to her rescue. He carefully picked off the tomato slices, and began to pat her skin with his fine cloth napkin. He gave her soothing words of comfort.

As mad as she was at Arya, Sansa couldn't help but revel in the touch and kindness of her betrothed.

Soon, her Septa was at her side, and took the napkin from Joffrey. They both thanked him profusely for his help and kindness.

Septa Mordane helped Sansa out of her seat, instructed Robb to take Arya to her room, and led Sansa to the kitchens so they could clean her up.

When she was clean, she could hardly bring herself to return to the table. She was so embarrassed by what had just occurred. _'You are a Lady, Sansa Stark!'_ she told herself. _'Ladies fill out their duties no matter how bad they feel.'_ And with that, she squared her shoulders and returned to the table.

Even though the rest of the evening had gone well, thinking back on what her stupid sister did caused a fresh wave of anger and humiliation to wash over Sansa. She could only take comfort in the fact that her dear Joffrey had helped her, the queen had given her sympathies at the end of the meal, and Arya was greatly punished by their lord father.

She smirked, thinking about how Arya would have to spend the next three days in her room. She wasn't even allowed to have Nymeria with her. She was to take her meals in her room as well. This kind of isolated punishment was one of the worst punishments for a person like Arya. She was so energetic and rambunctious, staying put in her room all day would easily drive her mad.

Sansa took comfort in that as she drifted off to sleep.

The castle had finally gone to bed, and Sandor found himself wandering the empty halls.

As usual, he had a wine skin in hand. It would soon be one of many he had finished off that night.

The Hound liked walking around when everyone was asleep. The air had a certain peaceful quality to it.

He had never required much sleep, so over the years he had developed the ritual of roaming around throughout the night with a wineskin in hand.

He was glad to finally get the chance to explore the infamous Winterfell. He knew it was one of the oldest castles in all the realm. It dated all the way back to the Age of Heroes, when Bran the Builder founded House Stark after the War for the Dawn had been won.

He could hardly believe that these walls had withstood eight thousand years. He wasn't a sentimental man by any stretch of the imagination, but he could still appreciate the history and strength of such a fortress.

As he staggered deeper into the Keep, down a less traveled corridor, his mind wandered back to the Lady Sansa.

He had watched her throughout dinner earlier that evening. He marveled at how graceful and dainty she was.

He was shocked when those slices of tomatoes had hit her face. He was completely torn. Half of him wanted to comfort and pity her. The other half of him wanted to throw back his head and laugh at the expression on Sansa's face when the food hit her.

Of course, he settled for remaining stony-faced and just watched the scene play out from afar.

He was impressed when the little lady returned after going to clean herself up. She held her head up with dignity and returned to her table to continue playing her role as host.

His thoughts of Sansa were suddenly interrupted by a high-pitched scream that pierced through the cold night air.

Instinctually, he whipped out his sword, and ran towards the sound of the screaming.

He followed the sound up to the top of a nearby tower.

He burst through the door and found himself in a parlor. The screams were coming from behind a door to his left, so he bolted through that door as well.

He didn't see anything that looked like a threat. As he looked around, he realized he was in a bedroom. The screams were coming from whoever was laying in the big bed.

As he moved closer, he realized it was Sansa laying in the bed and that he must be in her private chambers.

He froze, not knowing what to do.

There was clearly no threat, and yet there was a screaming girl in front of him. He looked at the wolf pup who was next to the bed, but she seemed to be just as confused as he was.

He whipped around when he heard people entering the room behind him.

He lowered his sword when he recognized the younger Stark girl, followed by her Septa and a couple of guards. He stood aside as Arya and Septa Mordane rushed to Sansa's side and shook her awake.

Sansa awoke, panting and covered in sweat. She sat upright and looked around, fear and confusion filling her eyes.

"It's alright, my dear," said the Septa. "You're safe in your bed, inside the castle. They can't get you here. Hush now, child."

Arya began to soothingly rub her sister's back. Sansa burst into tears and pulled Arya into a tight hug.

"Don't leave me!" she panted.

"I won't. I promise," replied Arya. She helped Sansa scoot to the other side of the bed, and joined her under the furs. "I'll sleep in here for the rest of the night," Arya said to their Septa.

Septa Mordane nodded, but didn't move to leave. She turned to Sandor and the guards and said "Thank you all for your protection. Lady Arya and I can handle things from here."

The guards gave a small bow in reply and turned to leave. Sandor looked over to Sansa one last time, and followed them. When he closed the door to Sansa's sitting room, he looked at the guards.

"What the bloody hells was that?" he demanded as they descended the tower stairs.

"Lady Sansa has been having nightmares all week," explained one of the guards. "A week past, she and her siblings went riding outside of the castle walls. At some point, she got separated from the rest. She was attacked by a group of wildlings. They were able to pull her from her horse and rough her up a little bit before her brothers arrived and fought them off. She wasn't seriously hurt, but the experience has really left her frightened."

Sandor found himself feeling very angry upon hearing this. He didn't know why he should care about some high-born's run in with the Free Folk. He was only paid to protect Joffrey, not to care about other noble children.

The other guard then spoke up, "It's been really strange lately. There have been dozens of Wildling sightings in the past few years. Before, we never had a problem with them coming south of the Wall. Now, all of a sudden, they all seem eager to get away from the North. They've really been causing problems for the Northern peoples."

Sandor nodded at that, and then walked away from the guards – back down the hallway he had come from. What the guard had spoken of really interested him. This was the first time he had heard of this increased Wildling presence south of the Wall. He didn't know what to make of it. He would certainly have to keep a sharp eye on Joffrey if they left the walls of the castle.

He suddenly found himself very tired. He made his way back to his shabby room, and fell asleep thinking of Sansa and Wildlings.


	2. Chapter 2

When Sansa awoke, she found herself wrapped in Arya's arms.

_'I must have had the nightmare again last night,'_ she thought. _'Well, I suppose I can't really remain mad at her for dinner last night. Not after she has spent her night comforting me. Maybe I should talk to mother and father about reducing her punishment…?'_

As much as Arya's behavior annoyed and sometimes even angered Sansa, there was no denying that she was a dedicated and loving sister.

She spoke with Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn after she broke her fast, and was able to reduce Arya's punishment to only one day. Arya would have to remain in her room for the rest of the day, but she would be free by the morrow.

Without Arya's troublemaking during lessons, the day seemed to drag on. Sansa was glad, however, that the day passed without incident.

The next day, Arya returned and things went back to normal. In fact, the next few days passed by without incident. It was not until six days after the arrival of the royal family that things went awry.

The boys were outside in the courtyard practicing their swordsmanship. Arya and Sansa were watching them with Bran and Rickon. They cheered on their brothers, and talked about how Bran would be joining them soon.

During their training, the Princes Joffrey and Tommen came out to the yard.

"Would the young princes like to join in?" Ser Rodrik called.

The two boys looked at each other, and then at Robb, Jon, and Theon, who were the ones training.

"Why not?" said Joffrey, "Come, Tommen, we can beat these Northerners easily."

"Which one of you would like to go first?" asked Ser Rodrik.

"I'm oldest, so I go first."

"Very well. Pick your opponent."

"As the oldest Baratheon, it only makes sense that I should take on the oldest Stark."

Sansa saw the smirk that came across Robb's face when Joffrey said that, but he turned away before the prince noticed.

While the two went to prepare, word of the duel spread quickly throughout the yard, and people started gathering.

The beautiful Jamie Lannister was standing near the stables, and with him was the Hound. The Imp waddled over from where he had been talking to a group of Northerners. The guards who had been training on the grounds nearby stopped their practicing, and came over to watch as well.

Sansa was excited to see Joffrey fight. They had been getting along so well. He had been very kind to her ever since he helped wipe the tomato from her skin.

The two boys met at the center of the yard, and the duel began.

It didn't take long for it to become apparent that Joffrey would lose the fight. He didn't seem to have any real skill with a blade. Especially when compared to Robb, who was quite a gifted fighter.

With every loss, Joffrey got more and more angry. Sansa felt bad for him. Her dearest betrothed was being humiliated in front of all of Winterfell.

Finally, it seemed that Joffrey had had quite enough embarrassment for one day. He threw down his tourney sword, and shouted "This is stupid. These aren't even real blades. This isn't even worth my time."

As he started to walk away from Robb, Sansa ran up to him.

"My prince!" she exclaimed, "You fought well. I'm sure that if you and Robb practiced some more-"

Before she knew what had happened, the breath had been knocked out of her.

Joffrey had punched her hard in the stomach. As she doubled over in pain, clutching her stomach, he rammed his elbow into her back, sending her falling to the ground.

He stormed off without another glance a Sansa.

When she fell to the ground, she cracked her head hard on the stone. The pain she felt when she hit the ground almost blinded her.

She struggled to get up, but found she did not have the strength to do so.

All of a sudden, there was a hand helping her to her feet.

Despite the fact that whoever was helping her was holding most of her weight, the effort made her dizzy.

She looked up, and saw the horribly scarred face of the Hound.

"Are you alright, my lady?" he rasped.

She smiled up at him, grateful for his help. But when she tried to answer him, she felt a sudden rush to her head. The world started to spin before her eyes. She felt like she was falling again. She tried to open her mouth to cry out, but the darkness overtook her.

_'Bloody hells!'_ he thought as he watched her lose consciousness.

He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, and brought the other down behind her knees. He scooped her up before she could fall for a second time.

He looked around for a moment.

"Someone get the bloody Maester, I'll take the girl to her chambers," he barked out to no one in particular.

As he stalked off to the Keep, he reveled in the feel of the beautiful Stark girl in his arms. She seemed as light as a feather, and looked so tiny in his large arms. Her head lulled against his chest, and he felt his heartbeat increase.

He looked her over to assess the damage. There was the obvious cut on her forehead, but he wouldn't be able to check the spots where Joffrey had hit her.

_'I swear, one of these days, that fucking idiot of a prince is going to be introduced to my fist!'_

As he gingerly laid the girl down on her bed, he couldn't help but to delicately push a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He quickly moved away before he could do anything else, cursing himself for even touching her.

"When will she wake up?" demanded Rickon.

"It's hard to know for sure," replied Maester Luwin. "With any luck, she will wake up sooner rather than later." He left the room.

"Will we leave for the hunt when she wakes up?" Rickon asked.

"No, Rickon. _We_ will leave for the hunt. You will be staying here." Robb told him.

"But I _want_ to go!" cried Rickon.

"I know," said Robb, "but you are still too young."

"Besides," said Jon, "I need you to stay here and help me and Arya take care of Sansa. You will be good and help your sister, won't you?"

Rickon's eyes widened and he nodded.

He and his siblings were all gathered around Sansa's bed. They had just finished their midday meal, and had wanted to be by their sister's side. Maester Luwin had just come to check on her, and had shown them how to give Sansa honeyed water, so that she would have the strength to heal.

"I still wish I had been able to hit that idiot Joffrey…" mumbled Arya.

"You know you would have gotten into a lot of trouble. We _had_ to stop you!" insisted Robb.

After Joffrey had hit her sister, Arya had tried to run after him. Robb and Jon had grabbed her and held her back. She was still mad at them for it.

Joffrey had by no means avoided punishment, though. It was no secret that his father had beaten him. King Robert had even threatened to not allow Joffrey to attend the hunt. Queen Cersei had had to beg on Joffrey's behalf, saying that it would not due for a member of the royal family to miss the hunt that had been planned in their honor. After her bothering him all morning about it, the king finally relented.

This hunt was to be quite an event. All three royal children were to attend, as well as the queen and her brothers, and Catelyn. The only people who were not attending were Sansa, Arya, Rickon, and Jon. It had been decided that Arya and Rickon were too young, Jon was a bastard, and that Sansa shouldn't attend after her injury. Maester Luwin said she shouldn't endure the kind of stress a hunt would entail so soon after a head injury.

The hunt was predicted to last ten days, but it could easily take over two weeks depending on the game being hunted.

The hunting party had been planning to leave the next day, but it had been delayed until Sansa woke up. Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn didn't want to leave their daughter while she was in such a delicate situation.

They had stayed by her side while the Maester did his initial check of her. Lord Eddard only left when the Maester assured him for the third time that Sansa would be fine. Catelyn had insisted that he needed to continue on with his duties.

Catelyn herself had stayed by Sansa's side all morning. She had refused to leave when her maids came to get her for the midday meal. When her children arrived after they had finished eating, they assured her that they would watch over Sansa. She finally relented, and went to join her husband and the royal family at the table.

Catelyn returned to join her children as soon as it was polite to excuse herself from the queen.

After an awkward moment in which Jon had to leave, she took her place at Sansa's side.

That evening, she decided she would pass on propriety, and not attend supper. She made her children go, but she couldn't bring herself to leave her dear girl's side.

By the time Lord Eddard returned to check on Sansa that night, she had not woken up.

Ned tried in vain to make Catelyn agree to go to bed. After it became clear that his wife would not relent, he ordered a cot to be brought into Sansa's room for her to sleep on.


	3. Chapter 3

_'Oh great, what does the brat want now?'_ thought Sandor as he saw Joffrey walking towards him. _'I'm off duty. Can't he go bother some other bloody guard?'_

"Dog!" called Joffrey.

_'What the fuck do you want?'_

"Yes, my lord?"

"I have a new assignment for you. It's about Sansa."

_'Bloody hells. Can't he leave the poor girl alone? He beat her unconscious only yesterday. Give her a bloody break.'_

"I had a little out-burst involving her in the yard yesterday, not that I care. But mother says I should do something nice to make it up to her. So I'm going to give you to her while I'm on my hunting trip as a present. I'll tell her something like how her safety is important to me. Anyways, you'll be left here to guard her. I don't actually care what you do. I just need to appease mother."

_'Seven hells, can't he even act like he has a conscious? This is the girl he is going to fucking marry, for gods' sake. The little fucker!'_

"Yes, my lord."

"Very good, dog. You'll start your new assignment on the morrow."

Sandor watched as Joffrey walked away. He decided he would go out to the practice yards. He had already trained that morning, but he needed to slash at something.

He didn't want to deal with the wimpy young guards, so he went to seek out Jamie. Aside from his brother, Jamie Lannister was the only person who could give him a decent fight.

As the two got their armor on, a crowd formed in the yard. It was mostly just lower ranking guards, some servants, and some Northern folk who had nothing better to do. Sandor saw that the younger she-wolf, Arya, ran over to watch as well.

The two fought very well. They were each matching the other blow for blow.

Just as Sandor thought he was gaining the upper hand, something started attacking his legs. He looked down and saw one of the Stark wolfs pawing at him.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say that pup is trying to get your attention," Jamie puffed out, trying to catch his breath.

Sandor tried to shake off the wolf, but it kept lunging at his legs.

"Get off me!" he barked at it.

"She's not going to leave you alone," someone shouted at him. He looked up to see that Arya had made her way towards them, and was smirking at him.

"What the bloody hells does it want!?"

"For you to follow her."

Sandor and Jamie looked at her in disbelief.

_'Why would this stupid thing want me to follow it? And how does the she-wolf know that?'_

Arya saw the confused look on his face, and explained, "That's Sansa's direwolf. Sansa's awake now and must have sent her to come get you."

"You can make those pups run errands for you?" asked Jamie incredulously.

Arya shrugged. "The direwolf is our sigil. They have been part of our house for thousands of years. They can understand us in ways most people wouldn't imagine possible."

"What, do your deep ties with the wolves enable them to read your minds?" asked Jamie sarcastically.

"They're _dire_wolves!" snapped Arya, "And yeah, they kind of do. And we can understand them back!"

"Yeah, right…" said Jamie in the same sarcastic tone.

Arya was about to snap back, but Sandor didn't feel like dealing with this anymore.

"So you say I should follow it?" he asked Arya.

She nodded, and so he went to set down his practice sword and armor, and then followed the pup.

He soon realized the pup was leading him down the path to Sansa's room. _'Maybe the she-wolf is right,'_ he thought. He felt his heart rate increase at the idea.

He walked through Sansa's bedroom door and saw Lady Catelyn sitting there. He gave her a stiff little bow, and turned his eyes to Sansa.

Her eyes lit up, and she said, "Ahh! Ser Clegane! Thank you for coming!"

"I am no Ser," he rasped. "You, uhh, sent for me?" He looked over at the pup now laying at the end of Sansa's bed, still not sure what to make of the ordeal.

"Yes!" she said, ignoring his remark, "I wanted to thank you. Though I don't remember much of what happened yesterday, I have been told that you were of great assistance to me. My mother has told me you took it upon yourself to carry me all the way back to my room from the yard."

_'Not that it was much effort,'_ he thought, _'You weigh nothing more than a feather.'_

"No need to thank me, my lady. Glad to have been of service."

He hated that he had to go through all the bloody courtesies with the Starks. The Lannisters and Baratheons had long ago given up on forcing manners on him. They had accepted his rough, uncourt-like behavior. The queen had told him that this way of acting wouldn't be acceptable for the Starks, though. They did things differently in the North, they were all about propriety, respect, and honor. So he just grit his teeth and bared it.

"Even so, I would like to extend my thanks. You have done me a great kindness. If there is something I can do to return the favor, please let me know. If it is within my power, I shall try to make it happen."

"Normally Lord Eddard and I would extend our thanks, and repay the favor to you ourselves, but Sansa has insisted that the kindness was to her and it is therefore her duty to reward it," said Lady Catelyn.

"I thank you both," said Sandor, "However, I do not need to be repaid."

"I must object!" exclaimed Sansa.

"Please, my lady. I assure you I do not need or want anything in return."

"Well, if you insist upon that, I suppose I must oblige. I thank you once again, and now you may return to your duties."

He gave another stiff bow, and went on his way. I had decided it wasn't his place to tell the Starks he would be spending the duration of the hunt protecting her. The little brat can do that himself.

He returned to the training yard, and explained to Jamie what had happened.

"Wow," replied Jamie, "I guess that Stark girl was right about the wolf wanting you to follow it. I still don't really buy into the 'deep mental connection' thing, though."

Sandor agreed with him, and spent the remainder of the afternoon training with him.

He watched Sansa at dinner that night. She was clearly still weak on her feet. Her brothers had had to help her through the room and into her seat. To her credit, she fulfilled her duty as a lady, and recited courtesies back and forth with the royal children.

_'She's kind of like a little bird…'_ he thought, _'she recites her courtesies and what they all expect her to say._ The idea made him chuckle a bit to himself.

He noticed Joffrey walk over to Sansa partway through the meal. He said something to her, and then pointed over to him. He quickly looked down at his cup before Sansa saw him looking at her. When he looked up again, she was looking back at Joffrey.

_'Poor girl. I'm sure this is just what she wanted. To spend her week with an ugly dog like me. Best I can do for her is to stay out of her way as much as possible. I'm able to protect Joff while barely interacting with him. I'm sure this can be just the same'_

He finished off his wine skin, and grabbed another one before leaving the hall.

The castle was in chaos outside her room. Now that Sansa was awake, the hunt could continue as planned. It was decided that they would leave the next day.

Catelyn tried to insist to Sansa that she skip dinner and remain in bed, but Sansa wouldn't listen.

She was still determined to be a strong and proper lady, and so she wanted to prove her strength by attending dinner.

She was ushered to the table by Robb and Bran. Joffrey was not there, but Myrcella and Tommen were.

"Sansa!" exclaimed Myrcella happily, "I'm so glad you are back. Tommen and have been praying for your safe recovery." Tommen nodded eagerly in agreement.

Sansa gave them a courteous smile. "Thank you very much Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen."

"We're sorry our brother did that to you," continued Tommen. "He can get very angry sometimes."

Sansa didn't want to dwell on Joffrey's anger, so instead she tried to change the subject. "Are the two of you excited to leave for the hunt on the morrow?"

"Yes!" they both shouted at once.

"I'm really excited to see the Northern countryside," said Myrcella.

"I promise you will not be disappointed, princess," chimed in Robb. "We'll be sure to show you some of our favorite spots."

"I just want to catch something. That would make father very proud," sighed Tommen.

"There is a field of berries near Tumbledown Tower," said Bran, "There are usually a lot of hares there who eat the greens off the berry bush. I'll show you how to set up a trap, and we should be able to get you a couple of nice fat ones."

Tommen looked at him with wide eyes. "That would be great, Bran! Can we try to catch two? Mother's nameday is only a couple of moons away, and I can order a new pair of gloves to be made from the hare fur."

Bran agreed to this, and Tommen returned to eating with a happy look on his face.

"Myrcella," said Sansa, "there is a beautiful waterfall near Tumbledown Tower, the place Bran just described. Have one of the Winterfell guards take you there. I'm sure you would love it."

Myrcella looked very pleased at this, and too continued eating. For the next few minutes, the group spoke of the various interesting things there were to see in the North. Their conversation was soon interrupted, however, when Joffrey came up to their table. Sansa felt Arya tense up beside her, but placed her hand on Arya's before the girl could do or say anything.

"My Lady Sansa," Joffrey greeted her.

"My prince," Sansa replied.

"I am so glad to see you out of bed and looking well. I just wanted to apologize for my behavior in the yard the other day. That was no way to treat my dear betrothed, and I promise my hand will never strike you again."

"Thank you, Prince Joffrey," Sansa replied politely. She didn't know what else she could say to him, so she settled for leaving her reply at that.

"To make up for my behavior, I have a gift of sorts for you." This surprised Sansa, and got her interest. "To ensure that no further harm should come to you while I am away, I am leaving my best guard to stay at your side." He pointed over to where the Hound was sitting. "That is my dog. I'm sure you have noticed him before. He shall remain here to protect you while we are away."

Sansa didn't quite know how to reply to that. The Hound did intimidate her a bit, but she also remembered how he had been kind to her when Joffrey had struck her.

"But my prince," she said, "what about your protection?"

Joffrey laughed. "We will be taking all of the royal guard, most of Winterfell's guards, and my Uncle Jamie. No animal or Wildling will be able to get close to me."

"Then I thank you for your kindness. I know I will be well protected here with your shield."

Joffrey smiled at her, but she thought it looked more like a smirk. He walked away, leaving Sansa to try to sort out what had just happened.

"You'll be more than safe here if the Hound will be protecting you," laughed Arya.

Sansa remembered what she had said about the Hound. He was supposed to be one of the best fighters in all of Westeros. Arya said the only person to pose any real challenge to him was his brother. But his brother was nowhere near Winterfell. And besides that, she had heard he worked for the Lannisters.

Though she didn't feel unsafe with just the basic Winterfell guard to protect her, for some reason she felt reassured knowing the Hound would be here to guard her and her siblings.


	4. Chapter 4

Sansa got up early to bid the hunting party farewell. Though her opinion of Joffrey had somewhat lessened of late, she still had to play the role of his loving betrothed.

Sansa was a very innocent and sheltered girl, and she always tried to find the good in people. Sometimes, she did this to a fault. This innocent and sheltered outlook on life made it difficult for her to see the true nature of her future husband.

Instead of thinking of him as a bad person, she chose to look on the incident as an unusual break in Joffrey's character. Besides, he had promised he would never hit her again. So it was easy for her to be genuinely excited to see him off on his hunting trip.

Everyone was just about ready to leave, most people already on their horses, when Joffrey approached Sansa.

Taking her hand, he said, "My dear betrothed, I do wish you well during our time apart."

"And you, my prince. I wish you good luck on your hunt. I'm certain you will come back with a good catch."

"Of course I will," he said. And with that, he briefly brought her hand to his lips, and walked away. She watched as a couple of squires helped him onto his mount, and he took off from Winterfell.

It was then when she felt the large presence behind her. She turned to see the Hound only a few paces away from her. In all the commotion of the leaving party, she had completely forgotten about her _gift_ from Joffrey.

"Good morning, Lord Clegane," she said brightly.

"I am no lord, girl," he growled.

"Well, if you're not a lord, and not a Ser, what should I call you. I do not wish to call you hound or dog."

"I suppose you could call me by just my name – Clegane," he said blankly.

She considered this for a moment. "Yes, I guess that is the best option. Well, Clegane, I am going to go break my fast with my brothers and sister. I don't think such a thing could be dangerous, so it is not required that you follow me."

"I was instructed to stay by your side while Joffrey is away."

"Okay, then. We will be eating in our family's private dining hall. We've always found it silly to eat in the Great Hall when there are only a few of us."

Sandor nodded, and she led the way to the hall.

They entered the Stark's private dining hall. Sandor could see why the family took their meals in here when there weren't guests to entertain. It was much more practical for them to eat in here, where it looked as if only fifteen or twenty people could be served.

Arya and Rickon Stark were already at the table, as was their bastard brother Jon Snow. A girl Sandor didn't know was with them. The Stark's septa… _'what was her name?'_ Mordane! was sitting across from Arya.

Sansa went to sit next to the foreign girl. She greeted the girl as Jeyne. He figured it was some Northern girl who was _lucky_ enough to be friends with the Stark children.

Sansa and the Jeyne girl gossiped away happily, talking about only the most trivial of things. Arya and Jon were arguing with each other, with Arya occasionally punching Jon in the arm. Rickon was fidgeting, staring down at his food while he moved it about on his plate. The septa kept trying in vain to make Arya sit down and behave as a "proper lady," but the girl didn't give her a second's notice.

Sandor found the scene amusing. Meals with the Lannisters (he thought of them as Lannisters, not Baratheons, because it was clear to him that the children were bastards fathered by Jamie) were very dull affairs. Robert usually didn't join them. Joffrey never really liked to talk to his siblings. They were actually decent people, and didn't relate very well to his sadistic personality. Cersei would just sit there, drinking wine and scheming about things. When she did speak, it was always about something involving court life, and correcting her children on how to behave.

Seeing the Starks eating together… they looked like an actual family. Anyone could see the love between the siblings. He could even see love, or at least affection, between the children and the women serving them.

_'So that's what happens when you govern with kindness and justice and not with schemes and fear,'_ Sandor thought.

He almost smiled at the idea. Court life in King's Landing was just so stupid.

_'Maybe these strange Northerners have it right. Maybe I should just come work as a guard here at Winterfell. It'd be nice to be away from all the idiots in the capital.'_

He knew that was fruitless thinking, though. There was no way in the seven hells that the Lannisters would let him out of their service. He had been working for the Lannisters ever since he ran away from home as a child. He'd protected Joffrey for the boy's entire life.

No… He was in way too deep with the Lannisters now to ever be able to leave their service.

He found the rest of the day to be very boring. The Starks were very rigorous in their children's education. They spent the whole morning with their Maester. From what Sandor could gather, the Maester taught them all about the history of Westeros, and even some history of Essos. They were trained in the founding, ancestry, and customs of the different houses in Westeros.

They learned a bit about the customs of the nine free cities, but the only substantial Essosi thing they covered was High Valyrian. He was surprised that the Starks took the time and energy to bother learning how to speak the old language of the free world. There was no way in the seven hells that the Lannister children would bother with such things.

They learned a lot about the geography of both Westeros and Essos. They even learned about the old stories and folklore of the lands beyond the Wall. Though, he supposed this made sense. The Wall and the lands beyond it had always been a part of the Northerners' history. It was often said that, after the Night's Watch, the Starks were the last defense for Westeros from the creatures beyond.

After their midday meal, the Stark sons would go off to learn about military history, tactics, and strategies, as well as train in the use of different battle weapons. The Stark daughters (along with the Jeyne girl) would go practice their courtesies, sewing, singing, and instrument playing.

They all finished around midafternoon, and then they got the rest of the day to do what they pleased.

Though he found the day to be very boring, he was very impressed with Lord and Lady Stark for giving their children such a thorough education.

Maybe this training and education would help his little bird when it came time for her to live in King's Landing. He wasn't too hopeful about it. As thorough as her education was, she was learning nothing about politics. Life in the capital was nothing but politics.

The most he could hope for was that the little bird survive with at least some of her spirit intact.

Three days had passed since the hunting party left Winterfell. Sansa found herself in her usual routine, just without her brothers and with the castle a lot more empty than usual.

At first, having the Hound around all the time was a little awkward. But he always kept a respectful distance, and he never interfered with anything. _'He's almost like a shadow!'_

After lessons on the third day, Arya and Jon announced they wanted to go riding.

"Would you join us, Sansa?" asked Jon.

"Riding around the castle grounds?" she asked.

"Of course not!" said Arya, "The castle grounds are so _boring_. We want to go outside!"

"Then I will absolutely not be joining you!"

"Oh come on, Sansa!" begged Arya.

"No! You know how I feel about it. I would rather stay here and work on my latest embroidery piece!"

"I know you don't feel safe outside the walls," said Jon, "but if you came with us, we could bring the Hound. From what I've heard, nothing stands a chance against him." He looked over at Clegane, who remained impassive.

Sansa remained quiet.

"I promise it will be fun!" said Arya. "You haven't been out of the castle walls in over two weeks!"

"And I am perfectly comfortable leaving it that way!"

"You can't hide in here forever! Eventually you will have to go out into the world."

"That would be when I leave for King's Landing with the royal family's party. With them, I will be surrounded by guards. No Wildling would even dare come anywhere near us!"

"But you have to face your fears!" insisted Arya. "Father always says that being scared is the only time you can be brave."

Arya caught Sansa there. Their father did always tell them that bravery comes from fear. And Sansa had a great amount of respect for her father. He was a very good leader, and was always willing to face his fears.

She would need to learn that too. If she was going to be queen one day, she couldn't allow herself to coward behind castle walls. She would need to face the world, to help her people.

She looked back at Arya. From the expression on her face, she knew that she had gotten Sansa. Arya always had a way of knowing when she had won the battle before her opponent even knew. Jon hadn't quite caught up, though.

"We'll bring the direwolves, too," he said, "They are much bigger now, and can help to defend you."

Sansa gave him a small smile. "Fine," she relented.

Arya jumped up and down clapping her hands. "Let's go tell the stable boys to saddle up our horses! Hound, should I tell them to ready your horse as well, or would you like to do that? I've heard your horse is hard for our stable boys to handle."

"I'll do it," he rasped.

Not long after they had left the castle gates, Arya and Jon took off at a gallop. Being the good dog that he was, he kept Stranger's speed at a slow trot so as to remain by Sansa's side. When they got further away from the castle, Sansa turned onto a trail leading into some woods, and slowed her horse all the way down to a walk.

Sandor kept pace with her, though he never liked going this slow. Neither did Stranger. He was a warhorse. He was built to go fast. But they knew they had to keep their slow pace and follow Sansa.

After a little while, Sansa began to talk to him. Well, he wasn't quite sure she was actually talking to him, or if she was just talking to the world in general, but he decided to pay attention. He wanted to hear what his little bird had to say.

"I've always loved the North," she said. "It's probably because I've never been anywhere else, but the air here just seems so comforting. I really feel at home here. It's so crisp and clean. Of course, it is always at least a little chilly, but I like that. The cold somehow makes me feel stronger. I know it doesn't make much sense. I'm sure it feels very different here compared to King's Landing, and wherever else you have lived in the South. What do you think of it up here?"

_'Shit. She's asked you a question. Don't just sit here like an idiot! Say something!'_

"Yes, it is different." _'That's all you could come up with? What a buggering fool!'_

"Well of course it's different!" she laughed, "But what do you think of it."

_'I might as well tell her the truth. I'll never lie to my little bird'_

"I like it."

"Hmm…" she pondered. "Not very talkative are you?"

_'You have no idea.'_

"You have no need to be frightened about talking to me. You may speak freely. I won't tell anyone what you say. It's just that it would be nice to have someone from King's Landing to talk to. It would be nice to leave home with at least one friend."

_'Of course! The sweet little bird just wants someone she can trust when she leaves her family. Bugger that, of course she can put her trust in me. There is no way I'd ever be able to do anything that might hurt her…"_

"Trust me, girl," he heard himself saying, "You don't want me as a friend. Trust no one in the capital, little bird."

"I don't know why, but deep down I have a feeling I can trust you. I've seen you around. You are nothing like the other people who came here from court."

_'That's cause they're all fucking idiots and traitors.'_

"A hound will die for you, but never lie to you."

_'The _fuck_ was that?'_

"Take my advice. Trust no one, little bird."

"Why do you keep calling me little bird?" Sansa asked confused.

He laughed. "Because that's what you are, girl! You are just a bird who repeats what she hears. You recite your courtesies and say what is expected for you to say."

Sansa stopped her horse with a shocked look on her face.

"That is _not_ true!"

"It is, though. You repeat what they want you to hear, and then they return you to your cage."

"I _am_ free," she snapped.

"You may have a bit of freedom up here, but I promise you you'll have no freedom in court."

Sansa brought her horse back to a walk, and was quiet. He could tell she was contemplating what he had just told her.

Sansa didn't know what to make of the Hound's words.

_'You'll have no freedom in court…'_

What could it all mean? Surely the Hound didn't know what he was talking about. After all, he was just a guard. And sworn shield to Joffrey. Of course _he_ wasn't free. But Sansa would be a guest at court. A part of it. She was a Stark of Winterfell. Her standing would be high above wherever the Hound's standing was.

_'No… He must be wrong. I'm the future queen of Westeros. I won't be confined to a cage.'_

Even as she reassured herself, she felt unsure.

_'A hound will die for you, but never lie to you…'_

Could he be telling the truth? Would he really not lie to her? It was obvious he wasn't like the other members of the royal party who had come to Winterfell. But to what extent was he different?

Sansa looked around at the view before her. _'The North is truly beautiful'_ she thought. They were clearly in the midst of autumn. While there was no snow yet, the air was beginning to get the crispness that only winter could bring. The days were slowly but surely getting shorter, with the nights slowly but surely getting colder. Sansa had always loved to watch the slow evolution that can with the changing of the seasons. She had been born in the dead of winter, so when she was younger, her first change in season had been watching as the cold ground of the North gave way to the beauty of the spring. Most of her childhood had been spent in the summer. Now that the last couple of years had been moving towards autumn, she felt a certain excitement building with her. Autumn would give way to winter, and winter felt like home.

But would she have these same feelings if she were in King's Landing? It was so much farther South than Winterfell. Would she even be able to feel the winter? She imagined that a winter day that far South could only be similar to an early spring or late autumn day up here in the North. She knew that the cold of the North didn't reach too far beyond its borders.

What would she do without the winter? It felt like she had been waiting for it her whole life. The very air of the North was changing. She could almost feel a certain… magical? element in her blood as she breathed it in. She had heard her father talking about it with Maester Luwin and some of the other higher Northern men. They said this winter was not going to be like the ones they had experienced in the past. They could feel the deep stirring in their blood as well. They said this would be a long winter, and one that would not be forgotten. Clearly, something was happening. Sansa just did not know what that something was.

She started to think back on the odd things she had experienced in the past couple of years. There was obviously the strange feeling in the blood of the Northerners. But what about the Wildlings that seemed to be flocking South from the Wall? Could their behavior have something to do with this seemingly extra-ordinary winter before them? Did they have the same feelings in their blood? Then she thought about the dear direwolf pups. They were the first direwolves to be seen south of the Wall in thousands of years. Surely that had to mean something. And there was the strange experiences she and her siblings had been having… even her half-brother Jon.

At first, she had been too scared to say anything about what she had experienced. But then, one day, she and all of her siblings were in the Godswood by themselves with their pups. It was dear little Rickon who brought it up first. He had told them that he had been having very strange dreams lately. He dreamed he was out hunting, but instead of him being the hunter, it was Shaggy Dog. He said it was as if he _was_ Shaggy Dog during the hunt. He could see things from the pup's perspective. With that, he had run off with his beloved Shaggy.

His other siblings were shocked. It was soon revealed they had all been having dreams like Rickon's. It was Arya who mentioned one of Old Nan's stories then. They had been told about a folktale from beyond the Wall about people who could project their minds into the minds of animals. Old Nan said the folk beyond the Wall called these people "wargs," but that the subject was very taboo once you got south of the Wall. They decided that this must be what was happening to them. They must be warging into their wolves. As excited as they were, they all decided not to tell anyone about this. They didn't even really explain their idea to little Rickon, because he would surely tell somebody. Rickon Stark was no known for his skills in keeping secrets.

The deep connection between the Stark children and their wolves was already known around Winterfell. It seemed as if the children could talk to the wolves as if they were human, and the wolves would respond with understanding. It was clear that these direwolves were no ordinary animals. The children just didn't want everyone to know just _how_ special the wolves were.

Surely, all of these weird experiences and developments had to be related to the mysterious winter approaching. Sansa found herself wondering what the Hound would think if he told him about the Stark children's warding idea. From what she had experienced of him, he would either laugh at her and say she and her siblings were mad, or he would just ignore the comment, and continue on with his grumpy self without giving it a second thought.

She sneaked a look over at the Hound who was riding besides her. She blushed, and looked forward immediately. She had caught him staring at her! How embarrassing and improper!

She didn't say anything about it, though. She merely rode on.

_'Oh shit!'_ She had caught him! He hadn't even realized he had been staring until she looked over at him. He turned his gaze forward immediately. If he had not had so many years to harden up his feelings, he might have blushed, like the little bird was doing now. But he had long ago buried "feelings" beneath a nice, solid layer of anger and hatred. He simply couldn't be bothered with embarrassment anymore.

This is what scared him the most about his reaction to the Stark girl. He felt something move inside him that he had never felt before. It was as if she had put a small crack in the stone wall he put between himself and the world.

He wondered what she was thinking. She had been quiet for some time now. He was just building up the courage to ask her when he heard horses coming in their direction. He instinctively grabbed for his sword, but quickly saw it wouldn't be needed. Arya and Jon were galloping towards them.

"Are you enjoying the ride?" asked Jon.

"Yes, actually. It really _is_ nice to get out and see the Northern countryside. It's just so beautiful," replied Sansa.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" said Arya impatiently. "Come on! The cave is just over there!"

Sandor had no idea what they were talking about. He followed them as they made their way deeper into the forest. Shortly, he noticed that there was indeed a cave up ahead. From the way the Starks and their wolves just strolled on in, he assumed they had been here many times before.

As they entered the cave, Sandor looked around. It was clear that the Starks of Winterfell had known this cave for many generations. There were stone benches carved out lining the walls of the cave. There was a place to tie up horses. They even had a trough of water and a place for food that the horses could use. The cave itself went back very deep. As he dismounted, he noticed it was… _warm_. That didn't make any sense. It was slightly cool outside. As he walked deeper into the cave, he saw his answer. At the back of the cave, the was a large hot pool. He could see the steam rising from it.

Just then, Jon walked past him and spread out a blanket on the ground. Arya and Sansa followed him with food in hand. They settled on the blanket, and their wolves curled up around them. They had clearly planned this earlier.

"Please, sit with us, Lord Clegane. We have more than enough food for you to join us," called Sansa.

"I am no lord, little bird. And I'm fine where I am," Sandor replied in a husky voice.

"Whatever you are, come sit with us," Arya said sharply.

Sandor looked at them, and then at Jon. Jon just shrugged his shoulders, "I've found that trying to deny them doesn't really work. They will get what they want in the end. It's better to just give in sooner so you don't have to deal with them annoying you."

Sandor grunted, but strode over to them and sat on the corner of the blanket. One thing he had learned over the years was to see when a battle was lost. He could see that he wouldn't win this argument with the Stark girls. Arya passed him some of the food, and he nibbled at it a bit.

"While you too rode ahead, I talked to Lord Clegane a bit about what he thinks of the North," Sansa said, clearly trying to make small talk.

"Wha' yoo tink," ask Arya with her mouth stuffed with food.

Sandor shrugged, "I like it I guess."

"I bet it's a big change from the capitol," said Jon. Sandor just nodded.

"It would be even better if that idiot Joffrey and his family were not here," said Arya.

Sansa scolded her, but Sandor smirked. He kind of liked the young she-wolf. She was blunt and out spoken. Those kind of girls, or women for that matter, were hard to come by.

"The she-wolf is right. The bloody royal family stinks up the land wherever they go," he said.

They all looked at him, shocked. They clearly didn't expect a sworn shield to the crown prince to speak so harshly about the family. Arya started laughing, and soon the rest of them joined in. Sandor was surprised. After that, things were pretty relaxed between him and the Stark children. They sat, nibbling on their food. They would tell him stories of the North, and the different goings on at Winterfell. In turn, he would share stories about the South and about life in King's Landing. Arya was very interested in his battle stories. It was clear Jon was interested as well, though he wasn't as open and eager about it as his sister. Sansa didn't seem to care much about those stories, but ever the proper lady, she sat and courteously listened. By the time they decided to head back to Winterfell, they were easily laughing with each other; jesting with each other.

It all felt very strange for the Hound. He had never let his guard down so much in his life. Even when eating around the cooking fires with his comrades-in-arms during his war days he would mostly only listen. He had no idea why these young Stark children could so easily get him talking. Maybe it was because they were certainly nothing like any other children he had ever met. The Stark children had a maturity beyond their years. He had known about the stoic nature of the Northern people, and it was really reflected in Jon, Sansa, and Arya. They were children who were raised to face the winter. After all, _Winter is Coming_, and the Starks were clearly ready for it.

They rode back into the yard in high spirits. Arya jumped off her horse immediately and ran to tell her friends about the war stories of the Hound. Jon rolled his eyes and chuckled as he dismounted, taking the reins of Arya's mare. Sandor dismounted Stranger, and looked over towards Sansa. She was still on her mare, thoughtfully looking at her home.

He didn't know what made him do it, but he decided to take this moment as an opportunity to touch her. He walked over to her, "Lost in thought, little bird?" he asked her, "Here, I'll help you down."

She blushed when he pulled her from her thoughts, and then was clearly surprised that the Hound was helping her down. He grabbed her around the waist, and easily lifted her up and off the mare. His hands lingered for a moment after he set her on the ground, his face only inches from hers. For half a heartbeat, he considered kissing her.

Before she knew what was happening, Sandor broke her reprieve and made to help her off her horse. He held her by the waist, and lifted her to the ground as easily as if she was a doll. He clung to her for a moment. As she looked into his eyes, she noticed something strange. It was almost as if he looked like he wanted to kiss her. Before she had time to even blink, he had let her go and was walking back to his destrier.

She stood rooted to the spot. Her mind had gone blank when she saw that look in his eye. With him gone, she was coming back to her senses. Had he really considered kissing her? What did she think about that? Strangely, she found that she wasn't completely repulsed by the idea. For a second, she considered what it might be like to kiss the infamous Hound. As soon as the thought came unbidden to her mind, she dismissed it. She was betrothed to Joffrey, after all. She was a highborn lady. _'Highborn ladies do _not_ consider things like kissing the Lannister dog!'_ she chided herself. Still, she couldn't quite shake the idea from her mind. There was something about Sandor Clegane that made her feel drawn to him.

The family ate a simple meal in their private dining hall, and decided to call it a night. Jon, Arya, and Sansa were all worn out from their ride that afternoon.

As Sansa climbed into bed, she couldn't help but smile, thinking about what a good day she had.


	5. Chapter 5

It was well past the hour of the wolf, but Sandor was nowhere near sleep. He was staying in one of the guard rooms at the base of the tower where the Stark girls made their chambers. He was sitting in a chair in the corner of his room, tipped back on the two back legs. He stared out at the hallway wall through his open door, nursing his Dornish sour red wine. His thoughts were on his little bird. On their day spent together. Sandor Clegane was a battle hardened brut, yet somehow, this little Stark girl – she was truly no more than a child – had broken through his defenses.

What was is about her that made him feel so helpless? He knew that, from now until his dying breath, he would try to protect her. He would try to give her what she wanted. He had never even thought about attempting to make another person happy before. He had never thought about _wanting_ to protect and look out for someone else. He had always been paid to protect people, sure. But he himself actually desired to keep this Stark girl safe.

His mind drifted to her body. In the sunlight, her pale white skin took on a lovely tint, reflecting all the beautiful colours of the sun. Her flaming red hair stood out in the light, making it shine and shimmer. And then there were her eyes… Those beautiful blue eyes. They had haunted him since the moment he arrived in Winterfell.

He began to wonder what she looked like under her dresses. She was still a girl, yes, but over the next couple of years, her body would change. He was excited to see her body morph from that of a girl's to that of a woman's. He tried to picture her womanly body…

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw someone flash by his doorway, followed closely by a wolf. That flash of fiery hair could only belong to Sansa.

He quietly got up from his chair and went to his door. He got their just in time to see her vanish around a corner up ahead. Without even thinking, he moved to follow her. He moved silently through the empty hallway. While he might be a very large man, years of sneaking around in battles and castles had trained him to be light on his feel and to make no noise. He followed her down a couple of more hallways, wondering where she could possibly be going. Finally, she exited through a back entrance of Winterfell.

He caught the door just before it closed, and eased himself through it, making sure to close it softy behind him. His little bird was already making her way to the vast gardens of Winterfell. He stopped at the edge of the garden, and watched as she moved about. She was so graceful, it looked as if she were merely floating along. She took her time, stopping to smell the different flowers. Before too long, however, she was getting beyond his view. The moon wasn't full, and so he couldn't see too far away. He slowly continued to follow her.

After a little while more of walking, she took a seat on an ornate stone bench. She let her head fall back as she looked up to the stars. He could see her breath misting in the cold night air.

Before he could stop himself, he spoke to her: "It's too cold and dangerous for a little bird to be out here on her own."

She nearly jumped out of her skin. He could barely hold the smirk off his face.

"My… my lord! I beg your pardon. I certainly did not hear you approaching."

"Aye, so it would seem. And what is a little bird doing out here all alone?"

"I… I had a… bad dream…" she said, barely above a whisper. The poor little thing. She was still being haunted by those damn Wildlings even this long after the attack. Sandor found himself wishing he could go slaughter all those who had scared his little bird. He knew most of them were dead already, thanks to her brothers. And any remaining ones had fled far, far away long ago. "I thought that maybe the night air could help to clear my head, ser."

"I am no ser, girl. And aye, you might get that pretty little head of yours cleared, but you will soon catch a fever." She looked down then, and seemed to realize for the first time that she was only wearing her nightgown, and thin robe, and her slippers. Without saying anything further, he unclasped his thick cloak, flung it over her shoulders, and fastened it around her neck.

Though she seemed surprised, the little bird didn't falter in her courtesies. "Thank you, my lord. But will you not get cold yourself?"

"I'll be fine. And I'm no lord. How many times must I tell you this?"

"Right, I'm sorry, Cle-… Clegane." She huddled into his cloak, wrapping it tight around herself, and looked back up at the stars. "Do you know anything about stars, Clegane?" she asked him.

He grunted, "Aye, a little bit. Only enough to find my way at night, though."

She nodded. "Won't you come sit with me?" she asked. He hesitated. But the look she gave him was so endearing and beautiful, he could not refuse her. He sat down beside her and looked up at the night sky.

Sansa began to explain what she knew about the stars. She pointed up to different stars, telling the stories her Maester and Old Nan had told her about it. She also pointed out that some of the stars could be grouped together to form a loose interpretation of a shape or figure, and she spoke of the stories behind those as well.

At some point, she placed her small, delicate hand on top of his large, rough one. He stiffened, his heart beating rapidly. _'I should pull away'_ he thought. _'This shouldn't be happening. We shouldn't be out here like this.'_ But he found he couldn't bring himself to pull away from Sansa's touch. _'Oh, buggering hells!'_ He gave in, and let himself relax besides her, letting her keep her hand on top of his.

When she had finished with her stories about the stars, they sat in a comfortable silence. He had no idea how long they sat there together. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. He was just so completely lost within her presence. At some point, she turned to him, her eyes beginning to droop.

"Thank you for giving me company," she said. He tried to think of what to say, but his mind was blank. Instead, he gave her a stiff nod, and continued to look out into the distance. He felt her hesitate for a moment beside him. Then, she leaned in towards him, and planted a kiss on his cheek. He felt absolutely stunned. No one had ever willing touched his disfigured face before. People could barely stand to look at it. But she touched it of her own accord… with her lips. He couldn't decide on whether she was one of the bravest people he knew, or simply the maddest.

She stood up, and he watched her out of the corner of his eyes. He expected her to walk back towards the castle, but saw that she was standing still. He looked at her and saw hesitation and confliction in her fact. She was clearly trying to decide on something. Before he knew what was happening, she stepped towards him, leaned in, and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. He sat there rigid, knowing that if he gave in even a little bit, he might not be able to stop himself from going too far.

She straightened up and smiled. "Thank you," she said, "Good night." She floated back through the gardens with Lady appearing at her side. He couldn't seem to move. He could still feel the touch of her lips on his. Her sweet scent that overwhelmed him as her hair fell around them. His hand still tingled where she had been touching it. His cheek burned where her lips had been. For once, he welcomed the burning.

He sat there for some time before he could bring himself to stand up. He wandered back to the castle and to his room as if he was in a daze. He fell into his bed, his head filled with the new sensations he had just discovered. He drifted off into a peaceful sleep, for once not having the nightmares of his brother and his childhood. Instead, his dreams swirled with red hair and blue eyes. The feelings of her skin on his skin, her lips on his lips. It was the most peaceful night's sleep he had had since he was just a little boy. The most restful sleep he had ever had.


End file.
